nine2five 2,13 Haven
by Marc Vun Kannon
Summary: Chuck has come back from the Gaez mission a changed man, but the spy world isn't going to wait for Team B to regroup.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N **I wasn't sure what to call this episode, I'm sort of running out of favorite TV shows to name them after. We just discovered Haven on Netflix and my youngest daughter suggested I use that. I'm not planning to use the storyline of Haven, just the name. But you never know, stranger things have happened.

* * *

"_Are you safe?"_

"_It's not your fault, Colonel."_

"_It won't come off!"_

"_What is wrong with Sarah Walker?"_

* * *

Moscow, just a few hours ago…

"I must say, you've looked better," said Alexei, his voice an avalanche. He touched the growing bruise on her cheek, gentle as a butterfly settling.

Frost flinched.

He pulled his hand back, as she expected.

"I've _been_ better too," she said, her voice slightly off-center. "If it hadn't been for Miss Babkin–you will remember to give her that bonus…?"

"Of course," said Alexei, "And more. If not for her Miss Walker might have taken you from me–"

Vivian chose that moment to insert herself into the charming reunion. "Now do you see why I wanted her taken care of, Father? She's simply too dangerous."

"I agree," said Volkoff, happily. That's what made chess played with live pieces so much more exciting than ordinary chess.

Vivian struck while her iron was hot. "Then shall I order her termination?"

Volkoff turned to Frost. "What say you, Frost? It is you who have borne the whips and scorns of time tonight."

Frost gave every outward appearance of thinking it over. "Agent Walker has always been dangerous, Alexei," said Frost. "She's still the same grenade she always was, but something happened last night that made her explode closer to hand than we expected."

"Gaez?"

Frost shook her head. Once. "No, we caught signals that he was dead in his club. Apparently it looked like a war zone, but she's made many of those before."

Volkoff went behind his desk, and activated his largest monitor, calling up footage from the plane. "Two in one night?" He hit rewind, and they watched as the clock moved backward, undoing the destruction. Frost remembered some of it, dimly. Alexei hummed along as his plane rebuilt itself, stopping as Sarah leapt backward into the aft section. "So you finally found someone as formidable as you." He moved it forward again, watching as Sarah said something before she leaped at Frost. "What did she say?"

Frost knew better than to lie to the Boss. "It won't come off."

Alexei paid people to ponder riddles like that. "What is 'it', and why won't it come off?"

"I have no idea," she said, with complete honesty. _But I'm going to find out._ "I propose we keep Miss Walker contained here, until I can find out what happened. We have any number of uses for a hand grenade, we can throw her away at any time. We just have to duck faster."

"And if she comes back to us again?" asked Vivian.

Frost shrugged. Once. "Then we keep on throwing her until she doesn't."

Alexei restarted the video, for the third time. Apparently this was a _Yes._

Frost knew every second, inside and out. She had no desire to see it again, or the open hunger in Alexei's eyes as he did. "May I be excused, Sir?"

Alexei waved a hand negligently, absorbed. "Carry on, Frost."

* * *

Vivian didn't bother to excuse herself, not that her father would have noticed anyway. "Frost," she said, stopping the older woman in her tracks.

Frost turned. "Yes, ma'am?" she asked, ever mindful of her honorifics.

Vivian quite liked being a 'Ma'am', rather than a 'Miss'. She strode up close, kept her voice low, intimate, just in case there were any microphones. "Something must be done about that woman, for both our sakes."

Delicately put. "I understand."

Vivian smiled. "Make it happen."

"Yes, ma'am," said Frost to her back.

* * *

Washington DC, in a certain familiar CIA holding facility…

"Chuck, I want you to know up front that you are in no way a prisoner here. You're free to go, if you like," said Doctor Dreyfus.

Chuck looked at the door, standing open. "You mean that?"

"Of course I do," said Leo. "The therapy is mandatory, as is the time out of the field, but something tells me you won't be all that upset if you never go back into it again."

Chuck looked at his hands. _I have the power. I have the responsibility. _"Sarah's out there, Doc."

_Hands_, wrote Leo. What is in his hands, or on them? "She'll come back to you, Chuck."

"Then why didn't she?"

"Tangled in cables, hanging from a skylight?" asked Dreyfus, deliberately misunderstanding Chuck's question. "Given the scenario, she had to know that anything that was going to happen would happen before she could free herself."

"So she just left?"

"What would have happened if she hadn't?" Dreyfus chuckled as his client turned red and started to fidget in his embarrassment. "Now you see her problem."

Chuck felt her problem, in every ache of his bones. So long, they'd been apart. He had his training to take his mind off it. What did she have? "Must be one hell of a mission."

"Alexei Volkoff _and_ your mother? I'd say so." Dreyfus turned the page on Sarah Bartowski, both literally and figuratively. "So, I think we can safely say you have a good reason to want to get back into the field, Chuck. Now let's try to get you there."

* * *

Frost sat up in her bed. She'd promised Alexei that she would take some painkillers and get some rest, and she had, if 'one' counts as 'some'. As for the rest, well, she never rested, why start now? She'd rest when she was dead, and Sarah had just reminded her in vivid purplish detail how easily that could happen.

If there was one thing Frost had learned in thirty years it was how to roll with the punches, and Agent Bartowski had thrown quite a few her way. Before she could roll, though, she needed to learn the lay of the land.

She got out of bed and logged on to her computer. If the issue ever came up, she would say she was investigating Agent Walker's strange behavior, and it would even be true. From the tower on her desk, she took out an old CD of balalaika music, a taste she'd cultivated years ago. She plopped the CD in the drive, upside-down.

A special, one-time-only program started. Her web cam and mike activated, not that anyone could have seen it from the outside. Even if they had, no one would have recognized it as a video-conference. Her screen erupted in purple pixels, rendering an unfamiliar silhouette. "Hello, Diane."

The silhouette jerked in surprise. Her husband's code bypassed the General's alerts, Frost recalled, just to tweak her tail. "Good morning, Orion," said General Beckman, surprisingly civil. "Back to your usual purple pixels, I see."

Frost made her point as clearly as she could in as few words as necessary. "You're wasting my time."

"Who are you?" asked Beckman, taking the hint.

Frost answered the question in her usual oblique fashion. "What is wrong with Sarah Walker?"

* * *

General Beckman's office, on the other end of this call...

_Frost? _For a moment sheer surprise drove every thought from Beckman's head, but her long career in coded double-speak came to her rescue. "We haven't managed to convince her, that your wagon-maker's work isn't as good as she thinks it is." If this communication ended now let that one message make it through. Frost could unpack it at leisure.

The response came back surprisingly quickly. "Understood. Send me an upgrade via Archer's Shipping. They know my taste in music."

_Music? _"Very good," said Beckman. "Her husband just joined your club, you know. At least one of his friends is very glad he did."

The screen went black.

* * *

Washington DC, John Casey's residence…

He knelt in his living room, seeking what little peace was available to him. One of his teachers had long ago sabotaged his life, telling him to seek a calm center that simply didn't exist. Under Chuck's 'tutelage' Casey had found his center, not calm but angry, the eye of a great and perpetual storm. His bonsai tree had since grown to become a frightening thing.

_Perfect._

His TV trilled at him, a request, rather than a command. His curiosity aroused, he answered his commander's call.

The General had doffed her uniform jacket, technically out of uniform. "Colonel Casey, I apologize for interrupting your meditations."

He deliberately placed his implements in their tray, and set it all to one side. "Accepted but not required, ma'am."

"Thank you. I find I need something from you that I have never asked for before. I trust that you will keep this between us."

"Yes, ma'am. Whatever you require…Diane."

"Thank you, Colonel…John. I need…your faith."

"Faith in who?" Casey thought about his safe and the package inside. "I have no doubts about Agent Bartowski, if that's what you're asking–"

"It's not Chuck but his mother that I'm worried about. You once expressed strong belief in her loyalty, sight unseen. Do you still have that faith?"

She'd brought them the poison, betrayed them to Volkoff, and stolen Chuck's wife away. "More than ever, General."

She took a deep breath, as if inhaling his support from her screen. "I hope you're right, John. I very much hope you're right."

* * *

Dreyfus watched Chuck with great interest. His hands were everywhere. When the subject was Amy or Gaez, they were under his arms. When he talked about Agent Rizzo they were clasped together. While talking about Casey he leaned back on them, but sometimes they were tucked between his knees. Sometimes, not often, he stared at them.

Right now he was sitting on them. "So what are you saying, Doc, that sometimes it's right to kill?"

"No, Chuck, you misunderstood my point. I would never say that killing is right," said Dreyfus. "I would say that killing can sometimes be 'least wrong', although that's really a discussion for another time." 'Least' implied options, and 'not killing' was not an option, last night, just who would be killed. "You had to choose, under foul conditions, conditions that prevented a less fatal course of action, and you chose Agent Rizzo's life over Mr. Gaez. I can't say that it was _the_, or even _a_, right action, but I will say that it was the right choice."

"That part was easy," said Chuck. It hadn't seemed at all like a choice, at the time. "I'm glad I didn't have time to overthink it like I usually do, or I might not have done it. Choosing is easy but acting is hard."

"The _action_ was the choice, Chuck. Without action everything else is just words." Dreyfus' phone rang. After he took the short call, he said, "Well, I believe that's all the time we have for today. Your Colonel Casey is at the gate."

Chuck got off his hands, and put on his jacket. "When do you want me back?" he asked, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

"As you–or your sister–think you need it. Ask her, if you don't trust yourself."

* * *

"What's up Casey?" asked Chuck, as he got into Casey's classic battle-wagon.

Casey didn't answer until they were off the grounds. "The General needs us."

"So nothing's changed, then?"

_Everything's changed, idiot. _"You have a good talk with the Doc?"

"I think so."

"Good."

"He had a very interesting perspective–"

Casey'd already had more than enough. He squeezed the steering wheel so hard the horn went off, and Chuck shut up in surprise. Casey stepped into the silence. "Look, Bartowski, my family is full of soldiers. The only perspective I ever needed came from them, and it's real simple. If you aren't prepared to fight, then you're ready to get beat. You didn't get beat, and I want to say I'm proud of you for that." He took his glare off the road, and turned it in Chuck. "And also that next time maybe you'll listen to your handler and puke in training, where you're supposed to."

Chuck snickered as Casey got back to his driving.

"What?" snarled the big man.

"Doc said you'd say that. He also said 'The middle of a firefight's no time to set up a blue ribbon commission full of people with perspectives.'"

Casey grunted his approval. "What can I say, the Doc's a smart man."

"He also told me about this great science fiction novel I think you'd like–"

That wasn't fair. Casey couldn't wince _or_ roll his eyes, he was driving. "Bartowski…"

* * *

Meanwhile, back in Russia…

Only her iron control kept Frost in her room, circling endlessly, rather than out on the grounds, circling endlessly. The last thing she wanted was for Alexei, and now Vivian as well, to have any reason to doubt her. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry, or maybe sing the praises of whatever power in the Universe caused her connection to Beckman to end at just that moment.

What had Chuck done now?

Her husband, Sarah's husband, had joined her club. What club? The _spy_ club? Why would Chuck be in the spy club, he was her baby, he was a harmless bunny rabbit. Now if _Ellie_ had turned out to–Stop. Chuck. Club. Spy club.

Gaez' club?

'Won't', Sarah had said, not 'doesn't'. She should have known Sarah wasn't talking about herself.

Frost circled the room, like water afraid to go down that drain. Alice, afraid to go down that rabbit hole, knowing where it led. Not a land of wonders. For hours she twisted in silence, until her over worked body put her to bed. She'd be up soon enough, but hopefully by then she could interview Agent Walker without seeming too eager about it.

* * *

In the lab, not at home…

Ellie looked up when she heard the noise, heart pounding. Footsteps sounded as someone walked past her door. A large man. A woman. And…

And someone didn't walk past her door at all. Someone stood right outside, waiting, perhaps working up the courage, perhaps turning to flee. Ellie stood up, ready to run to the door when it pushed open. Chuck stood there, as if unsure of the welcome he would receive.

For a genius he could be pretty stupid sometimes.

"Chuck." Ellie walked up to him and took her little brother in her arms.

He hugged her tightly. "Hey, sis." Neither of them was sure who was shaking more. "I'm sorry."

"Shh, shh," said Ellie gently. "I don't blame you, I blame him. He gave you no choice."

Not entirely true. He had other choices, but they were all worse. The feel of his sister as she held him, the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair, steadied him as nothing else could. "You remember all those stories you used to tell me about your time on the surgical unit?"

"Yeah?"

"Now I get it."

"Sucks, huh?"

"Yeah." He pulled back. "But at least I took a monster off the streets."

Ellie frowned. "Don't forget he was also a man, Chuck."

"I won't forget, El. I can't. But it's like the Doc said, only men can _be_ monsters."

* * *

Frost's room, much later than she expected…

She overslept. The one night she wanted to wake early was the one night the nightmares decided to make her stay.

As always, she made even that delay work for her. On her outer patrol, she looked both thoughtful and fierce. She noticed everything and forgave nothing. Her inner patrol was slightly better, since she got a chance to smile at Miss Babkin, starting her first shift in the mansion.

Finally she fetched up outside Sarah's door, and went in without knocking, like a jailer would. Agent Walker lay inside, still in her leathers, still strapped to the gurney they'd used to take her off the plane. She looked peaceful, angelic, a once-upon-a-time-blonde sleeping princess waiting for her kiss. "Agent Walker?"

Sarah opened her eyes, the only part of her that moved.

Frost decided to keep it short, if not sweet. "It won't come off, Sarah, but at least Chuck got something for his pains. I spoke with your boss, she said he saved his partner, I'm assuming that's Casey."

Frost paused, but Sarah made no sound, no motion, nothing to step into the deliberate conversational vacuum. A single tear slid from her eye down the side of her head, and Frost leaned in close to wipe it away. "I know."

Frost sat back, her fingers rubbing, smearing Sarah's tear all over themselves, the closest she'd been to real tears in a very long time. "What happened last night, Sarah? What did you see?"

Once Frost could have read whole mission reports from Sarah's face, but not now. Sarah's face was as smooth and unreadable as a mirror, telling Frost only the things that she told it first. "Agent Walker," she said gently, "Report."

Sarah opened her mouth, moved her lips…and spoke volumes of silence into the world.

* * *

**A/N2 **A bit of an interruption, but a necessary one. For all that the showrunners went on about Chuck being about the Hero's Journey, they never actually showed their Hero making that journey. He killed a man, and they said nothing about it. He got the fear toxin, with no apparent consequences. Or the Suppressor, or the Belgian's machines, or…A million opportunities to show Chuck becoming the man they wanted him to be, and every single one of them was wasted.

Perhaps that was where they were planning to go, in Season 3, and the profoundly negative reaction prevented the proper development of their Hero. Certainly a comic romp on the trains of Europe is not the proper response to the fact that Chuck just killed a man, much as it may have pleased the fans who didn't want the dramatic arc in the first place. (That may be why I dislike the Honeymooners episode so much.)

Given that they did have the dramatic arc, I would have preferred that they stuck to their guns and brought the show back to its lighter side while dealing with the dark stuff, and made Chuck the real Hero they wanted him to be. My version of S3 was much lighter than theirs, but my version of S4 is not nearly as light-hearted as theirs, although I'm trying to avoid the deep shadows.

**8/17/14: **I have seen problems in leaving reviews. Several reviewers have logged in and left reviews that never made it to the board, I don't know why but I sent them a message about it. If your comment doesn't appear just leave it as Guest, with a user name, and I'll PM you back, because I always respond to comments if I can.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N **I already did the whole SWAT-team-at-the-bachelorette-party thing, so we'll just move on.

* * *

"_I must say, you've looked better."_

"_Sarah's out there, Doc."_

"_I have no doubts about Agent Bartowski."_

"_Only men can _be_ monsters."_

* * *

Ellie and Chuck joined the rest of the team in Manoosh's old cave, the only room large enough for all of them to gather at once. Her desk had a communicator, but she wanted her brother to be with his friends gathered around him.

"Hey, Chuck," said Carina, and everyone else were just as matter-of-fact. Well, maybe not Manoosh, but the screen lit before he could say much.

"Good afternoon, team," said General Beckman. "This meeting will be short, just to bring everyone up to speed on the latest developments. First things first…Manoosh, you should have received some miniature electronics for study. They were found by Agent Rizzo, on the floor under the skylight in Rio."

Manoosh nodded and opened his mouth, but Chuck asked "Something Sarah dropped?" before he could say anything.

"We think so, Chuck. There were some crystalline fragments in the box as well. I've given them to a materials analysis team for study. Manoosh, you'll begin your examination after this meeting."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Moving on. Not long ago, I received a direct communication from Frost." She held up a hand against the resulting tumult. "The first thing she wanted to know was what was wrong with Agent Walker."

Chuck stood up. He couldn't help it. "Something's wrong with Sarah?"

"Sit down, Mr. Bartowski," commanded the General, and Chuck obeyed reluctantly. "Your theory on the flight to Brazil was clever, but it didn't go far enough. If the tracking nanos didn't make it into Sarah's bloodstream then neither did the liquid they were immersed in."

"The antitoxin."

Ellie jumped in. "General, were any trials conducted on the effectiveness of the antidote when absorbed through the skin?"

"Gather your team and conduct them, Doctor." That was a 'No'.

"That will take time, General."

"We have that time, Ellie. The second thing Frost said was to send her some of the antitoxin. Given the delicacy of her situation, it may be some time before we can make that happen."

"Can we trust her?" asked Carina.

"Yes," said Beckman, not looking at Casey.

"But why?" said Carina. "She's betrayed us three times already. She shot her own son, then kidnapped him, and then kidnapped his wife."

"She gave is the toxin and the guy who made it," said Casey. "She didn't shoot Chuck until after she'd touched his coat and verified that he was wearing a vest under it. As for Sarah, she took an opportunity to embed her in Volkoff's organization when Chuck was taken by the Belgian, a more plausible scenario than anything we could have whipped up ourselves. If you can think of a better way to focus Chuck's attention on Volkoff I'd like to know what it is."

"Then explain the panel to me," said Carina. "Why would she show Chuck that panel, cripple her own son, and help Volkoff escape when you had him on the ground?"

How many nights had he sat in his apartment, wondering the same thing? "I can't, but that doesn't mean there's no reason, just that I can't see it."

"But I think I can," said Ellie.

* * *

"Well, Frost, any word on or from Miss Walker?" asked Alexei, sounding mildly interested.

"Not a word, not a sound, not a peep," said Frost. "I've tried everything I can think of."

"How about a hatpin?" asked Vivian.

"Something like that, yes," said Frost. _Only not so crass. _"I sent her to lunch in the mess, and shifted the guards' schedule back an hour. And I told them why."

Volkoff winced. "You did put away the good china, I trust?"

"Paper plates only," she assured him. "Agent Walker was harassed, insulted, poked, prodded, hit, kicked, punched, stabbed, choked, and beaten. The only sound that came out of her was the sound of her breathing."

Vivian just had to know. "What did you do with the body?"

"I sent her to take a bath," said Frost. "The guards who were still conscious finished their lunch and did double duty for those who weren't." Frost looked thoughtful for a second. "On the plus side, they all seem to have decided to let bygones be bygones."

"She blinded a man!" said Vivian.

"The general consensus is that he stuck his hand in a meat grinder." Frost reconsidered her words. "Well, it is _now_." Back to Volkoff. "The downside, sir, is that none of the men will have anything to do with her at all, now."

"There's a pity," said Alexei.

"Get rid of her," said Vivian.

"Not just yet. If you're both done with her, I'll use her as my sparring partner," said Frost. "I haven't had a workout like the one she gave me on the plane in a long time, and I'm getting soft. I'll get rid of Sarah Walker when I'm strong enough to do it with my bare hands."

Volkoff chuckled and turned away. "As you will, Frost."

* * *

Back at the briefing…

Ellie's announcement took everyone by surprise.

"Ellie? You have new information?" asked Beckman, who wasn't really in favor of surprises, as a rule.

"No, General," said Ellie, "I just had a flash of my own."

"Is that what they look like?" asked Beckman.

"Absolutely not," said Carina, who'd seen one whole flash in her life and so was an expert. "They look more like this." Her face twisted and her eyes started fluttering, like a woman sneezing in mid-orgasm.

"Do that in private, Miller," snarled Casey. "You're scaring the children."

"Then let's see you do one," challenged the redhead.

Casey frowned at her and curled his lip in a silent sneer.

"I'm waiting."

"You want me to do it again?" said Casey.

"General?" asked Hannah softly.

Beckman just shook her head. A little stress-relief was in order.

"That wasn't a flash," said Manoosh with a sneer. "This is a flash." His face went slack and his eyelids fluttered.

"You're not flashing," said Carina, "You're just imagining me naked."

Chuck started bonking his head against the table.

"Agent Miller," said Beckman in a much-put-upon voice.

Chuck's head hit something softer than the table. Opening his eyes, he saw Ellie's hand. "Stop it," she said.

"That was so a flash," said Manoosh. "Chuck, back me up here, buddy."

Everyone's attention turned to Chuck. His face went slack and his eyelids fluttered.

Manoosh pointed triumphantly. "See?"

"I don't know," said Beckman, "His seemed like the phoniest of the lot."

"That was a flash, General," said Chuck in surprise.

"Are you sure?" asked Beckman. "It's not like you'd be able see one from the outside."

"No, General," said Chuck, "I meant…that was a flash."

* * *

Frost heard the sound of the music long before she got close enough to identify it. One of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, Winter from the sound of it. _How appropriate._

She opened the door without warning. Agent Walker sat in a chair by the window, reading. Possibly the first time in decades that any of those books had ever been opened.

Frost crossed the room to her guest/prisoner, reaching for the volume control even as she bent to speak into Sarah's ear. "The case is gone, did you give it to Chuck?" She turned down the volume as Sarah shook her head.

Lost. Found? Strayed? Well, nothing for it now. "You've quite worn out your welcome, Miss Walker," said Frost, for the benefit of whatever microphones might be listening. "Alexei was tolerably amused by you but I assure I am not. To me you are useful. The second either of those conditions changes, we will find a convenient war zone and drop you in it. Is that quite clear?"

Sarah nodded.

"Good," said Frost, wondering how long before it would occur to anyone to put in visual monitors. "Get dressed. We're going for a run, and I expect your best." _Only your best._

* * *

_Is that what they look like? _"A real flash?"

"Yes, General," said Chuck, as Ellie made a hand signal. Manoosh got up.

Beckman noted the byplay but ignored it. "On what?"

"Um…nothing, General."

That was strange enough that Ellie was able to tell Manoosh to bring the scanner up and still get a word in edgewise. "How is that possible, Chuck? Dad said that the Intersect needs a seed to work with. How can you flash on nothing?"

"I don't know, sis, but…Have you ever had a sneeze that just sort of…_tingled_ at the back of your nose but never came forward enough to actually sneeze?"

Casey suddenly pushed back from the table. "I swear, Bartowski, if you give me one of those…"

"It's not my plan, Casey," said Chuck. "I'm just saying that that's sort of like how I've been feeling, ever since Mom showed me that panel."

"Speaking of panels, Ellie, what was that theory of yours?"

"I'd tell you, General, but right now my theory is even more theoretical than usual." She stood up, seizing the initiative. "We need to get Chuck into the lab to see what this development means."

"Best be about it, then," said Beckman, with a flick of her fingers. "The rest of you, we have plans to make."

"Dammit," muttered Casey as he watched them go.

"You watch," said Hannah. "it'll be a month before we hear anything about this theory of hers."

"At least," amended the General.

Carina sighed. "Typical."

* * *

Chuck, being a gentleman, held the door open for his sister, and saw what was on her desk. "Wait a minute, Ellie, is that a Roarke Seven? How'd you get that?"

"Dad's car." Her brother gave her his patented blank stare. "Oh, that's right, you weren't there for that part." She laughed, music to his ears. "You remember Devon's dancing teddy bear?"

Talk about ancient history, that was back in…another life. "Yeah, sis, I remember." As usual, he was drawn toward the technology.

"Mom left you that photo album, which was full of pictures of me in Dad's old car. Long story short, we found the car in LA, well, Manoosh did."

Manoosh hit the jamb, breathless from his short run across the hall. "Somebody call my name?"

Ellie resolved to start him on an exercise program. "Just telling Chuck about the Roarke. Is the scanner ready?"

"Oh, yeah," said Manoosh, nodding, and remembering the glory of his triumph. "I found it while I was driving the car back. Took me three days to get it working."

"And he ran smack into one of Dad's arcane word puzzles as a password, _and_ tried to answer it."

Manoosh drooped. "Come on."

Chuck recognized an Ellie-punishment when he saw one. He sat down, tracing his fingers lightly over the grooves cut into the case. "What was the puzzle?"

"'Knock, knock'," said Ellie.

The answer popped into Chuck's head faster than the question. "So it was intended for you." He lifted the lid. "What's on it?"

"Don't do–"

The screen flashed green light into his face.

"–that."

Chuck blinked, momentarily blinded by the light, but it passed. "What was that?"

"Dunno," said Manoosh. "But it happens every time we open it."

Ellie walked over to her desk, clipboard in hand. "Honestly, can't you boys ever keep your hands to yourselves?" She pushed the lid down again, and pointed at the low stool where she gathered her biometrics. "Sit. Manoosh, get me an ice cube for my stethoscope, please."

Chuck pulled his shirt tight around him as Manoosh left. "Come on, sis, what's so hush-hush? That looked like a brain scan."

"That was a–" She stopped talking, and got an evil glint in her eye. "You know what, I'm not going to tell you." She yelled toward the door, "Manoosh, forget the ice cube."

Chuck unbuttoned his shirt. "You're evil, you know that?"

Manoosh didn't come back, with or without an ice cube, having seen Chuck shirtless before and not being thrilled then either. Once she'd poked and prodded him to her satisfaction, Chuck walked into the Intersect room and found him there, checking the scanner readouts while listening to music. "What's this?" he asked, waving a hand in the air.

"The thing," said Manoosh mysteriously. "For the thing."

_Oh yeah, the thing_. Chuck listened for a bit. Nice. "Sounds good. And you kept at it without me? Thanks, man."

"Forget it, us nerds have to stick together," said Manoosh, shaking his head. "No thanks necessary. And besides, you just saved my ass in there, so we're even."

Chuck absently got into his chair as he considered Manoosh's puzzle. Like father, like son. And, like nerd. "You really _were_ imagining Carina naked, weren't you?"

Manoosh hit the release and the chair tipped back. "Well, _duh_."

* * *

"Okay, Chuck, are you ready?" asked Ellie over the speakers of the weapon room.

Chuck moved and flexed, limbering up. "I'm fine, El, but I gotta tell you, Manoosh is starting to freak me out a little. Are you sure we can't get Casey or Carina for this part?"

"It'll be good for you, little brother," said Ellie, with Beckman's comments about baseball in the back of her mind. "Someday you'll be up against a scared kid in an alley, so you should know how to handle it. Manoosh?"

"Aah!" He flinched.

"Hey!"

"Chuck?"

"Told you he was jumpy."

"What was that?"

"Nothing, El," said Chuck, when Manoosh failed to respond. "But you should be glad the skills are reflexive again. And we'll need another knife, or a stepladder. You still want to do the katana test?" No answer. "Sis?"

"What?" She sounded distracted.

"Very sharp Japanese broadsword in the hands of a very jittery subordinate?"

"No. No, get back here."

Chuck cut short his _Oh thank God_ with a "What's up, sis?" as Manoosh tried three times to put the blade back in its sheath.

"Dad's computer. It's beeping."

* * *

Frost and Sarah ran. The forest around Volkoff's compound had several trails, pounded flat by the passage of guards' feet at regular intervals. The ground barely noticed the passage of the two women, faster and lighter by far. Sarah should have had the advantage, but Frost knew the terrain and she was shorter, so the trees bothered her less. "Up ahead," she said, to the rhythm of her breathing, "We dive."

The main trail curved to the right but they didn't follow it. The ground, ahead rose but they didn't slow. At the crest they both leapt into space and dove into a pond, neither deep nor broad, but a good and sudden cool-down for the two agents. Frost immediately started swimming to the far side, with a surprisingly clumsy stroke that made lots of noise while keeping her head above the water. "You're not the cavalry I'd hoped for," she said, once she'd got her breath back, "But you're all I've got so you'll have to do."

Sarah couldn't respond in any way, given the circumstances, but Frost sensed the question that had to be at the top of her mind.

"I'm losing control of Alexei Volkoff."

* * *

Ellie sat at her desk, waiting, but not for long.

Chuck and Manoosh hit the jamb simultaneously, but Chuck was in much better shape. "You're going to open it?"

"Yes," said Ellie, glasses in hand. "Here."

They put on the protective lenses and watched as she lifted the lid to the sinister machine. Nothing flashed at her this time. The screen was almost completely black. Almost.

"What's that?" asked Manoosh. The two men moved forward for a better view.

"Another puzzle," said Ellie, standing up. "It says 'one or eleven'."

Chuck moved in as Ellie backed away. "Something tells me this one's meant for me."

"You know which one?" asked Manoosh.

Chuck shook his head. "It's not either one, it's both."

"Huh?"

Chuck looked up at his sister, for her permission, her support, or just because. Ellie smiled. "Aces, Charles. Just…aces."

Chuck typed in the phrase his father so often used. Ellie and Manoosh watched as light played across his face. Not a lot of light, not moving very fast, and the barrage ended far too quickly.

"Chuck, are you all right?" she asked, when Chuck didn't immediately react. "What kind of upload was that?"

Chuck looked up, not dazed, just confused. "It wasn't an upload at all, sis, just pictures," he said, reaching for the keyboard. "Somebody called Agent X."

* * *

**A/N2 **I had a sudden epiphany about the way this story should go. Chuck and Sarah will be getting back together much sooner than I originally thought. Not next chapter but next episode for sure.

Some small points are used here thanks to some of my fellow fanfic writers, in particular **Aryas's Prayers**, and **willofthering.** In 'Becoming' it is mentioned that Sarah, being alone for long periods of time as a younger girl, would turn to books for comfort and distraction, which seemed reasonable. I threw in the Vivaldi just because. In 'Chuck vs the End' Chuck is faced with a scared young man with a weapon in his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N **If you look up 'cyclomatic complexity' you'll find it means nothing like what Ellie says it means when she's analyzing the Intersect code in canon. I had to come up with something different to get them the house in Somerset.

* * *

"_I received a direct communication from Frost."_

"_That was a flash, General."_

"_You're evil, you know that?" _

"_Somebody called Agent X."_

* * *

In Russia...

Sarah gave Frost a strong hand to hold as she climbed up the bank of the pond, but she refused to let go once the older woman reached level ground.

"Got your attention, did I?" said Frost, only trying to get her hand back once.

Sarah squeezed.

"No need to shout," said Frost, squeezing back. "I have every intention of telling you what you need to know, but we have to get going. Alexei knows my time on this route pretty well."

* * *

In Washington DC...

"Agent X?" said General Beckman, cursing herself for thinking things were going so well. "There are no hints to his, or her, identity?"

"No, ma'am," said Ellie. "I've got Chuck comparing the files now, but while the scans match the new data, there's nothing in here with a name. I'm even assuming it's a man based purely on the scan data."

"And we're sure that these files were not some kind of upload?"

"Positive, General. He had on the glasses, the files haven't erased themselves from the computer, and we ran him under the scanner a second time. Chuck's using his other skill set as an electrical and computer engineer, looking for coding anomalies, abnormal byte patterns, things I would never see. As far as we can tell these are just files."

"Then why were they sent to Chuck specifically?"

"I have a theory on that…"

Beckman smiled tightly. She hadn't forgotten the last theory Ellie'd had, which she'd left dangling over everyone's heads. "I thought you might."

"Dad said the program needed a seed to form an intersect event around. I'm thinking that these files, now that they've been seen by him, are meant to be such a seed."

For what fruit? "You want to do an upload."

"I think we may have to. Unless we plan to never use Chuck in that capacity again…?"

"Not at all, Eleanor, in fact just the opposite. Manoosh's glasses make it possible to use your brother in a field capacity while still enabling him to perform limited Intersect duties. We need him more than ever."

"He's just one man, General."

"I'm aware of that, Doctor," said Beckman, "An extraordinary man, with an extraordinary team. But that's not my point. We also know that your father tried to destroy Chuck, at least as far as the Intersect was concerned. How do we know these files aren't some kind of booby-trap?"

As if that mattered. "Firstly, we won't include these files in the dataset. Second, Sarah's not here, General, but my father couldn't have expected that when he arranged for me to get this box, and he's not suicidal. She hunted him to the ends of the Earth just for trying."

Not to mention that, if it was a booby-trap, it was already too late. Beckman appreciated Ellie's polite dance around that obvious truth. "That second reason reassures me more, to be honest."

"Me, too," said Ellie.

"You would do a full upload, I assume?"

"Yes, General. If there is a data-related hazard, which I doubt, I want to find it now." Chuck wasn't the only one who'd apologized to her, but Casey's self-perceived fault was his lack of action in Prague, rather than any action in Rio. Ellie understood the goal, but she didn't see any fault that he'd failed to achieve it. Her brother could be slippery.

"Understood. Very well, Doctor, keep me apprised."

"Thank you, General." Ellie looked away as Beckman killed the screen. "Manoosh, start encoding the full dataset."

"On it."

* * *

Back in Russia...

For a little while, they ran in silence, until they'd established a rhythm.

"Long ago," said Frost suddenly, "Before Chuck was born, my husband and his partner, _not_ Ted Roarke, were finally making progress on their greatest project. A machine to make learning obsolete. It wasn't the Intersect, that monstrosity hadn't even been thought of. The CIA was interested enough in the original design to offer funding and protection. That's how Stephen and I met." Frost smiled, and Sarah smiled along with her.

"When the original funding ran out, they had to demonstrate something, and all they really had was proof of concept, the prototype was in the prototype stages. They needed something for the committee. Hartley came up with the idea of demonstrating an implanted memory, something the men on the board could understand better than the code and the math. I got them a piece of a report, a confession about a massacre in Russia. Hartley uploaded it and…talked about 'his' massacre in great detail, such venom, such joy…and in Russian. This man we knew so well, mild-mannered, kind, suddenly channeling a vicious murderer for a few seconds. He even threw up at the end. Everybody congratulated them on their success."

Frost ran on silently, for a time.

"Of course the funding followed. Prototypes were developed. Hartley, already a successful guinea pig, tested them all. Presidents, statesmen, leaders. A more positive experience, we thought. We were wrong."

* * *

Back in Washington...

His screen trilled a request, and Manoosh accepted the connection.

"Hi, Manoosh."

"Hey, Hannah. What's up?"

"Nothing much," she replied. "I've heard so much about these uploads, I just wanted to see what all the fuss is about. The General didn't think it was a great idea, but she didn't forbid it either."

"Oh, well, there's not a lot to see, but I'm certainly not going to chase you away." She was so pretty, and nice. She looked nice, and acted nice. He bet she smelled nice too. Not that he'd ever met her, or ever would. "I don't know what happens in there, and I don't want to. The only person who's ever seen the whole thing and lived is Agent Charles. It's supposed to be like watching a lot of pictures, really fast."

"That would give me a headache."

"It gives him one, that's for sure."

"Upload commencing," said Ellie formally.

Nothing seemed to be happening. Manoosh pointed at the little progress bar in the corner of the screen. "The most important thing right now are the biometrics," he said. "That's her department. I encode the datasets, monitor the hardware, power consumption, that sort of thing, but the multiple redundancies in the room don't give me anything to do until after." The progress bar reached its end and vanished. "The real excitement comes in a few minutes, after he recovers from the upload. That's when he gets to work, and the fingers start to fly." Manoosh waggled his fingers to the monitor.

"Manoosh, I do analysis, okay? Believe me, the fingers don't–" she waggled her fingers back at him "–_fly_."

A window popped up between them, transparent, with a sentence she had to strain to read, the letters backward and fuzzy.

Manoosh made a little _hmp _of surprise. "He's early today."

A second sentence popped up under the first. Then a third.

"Holy crap," said Hannah.

"There's a bit of a backlog," said Manoosh.

Suddenly the page started scrolling. Hannah stopped smiling.

"God, I feel like such a dinosaur," she said. Maybe Beckman was right, this was a bad idea.

"Don't," said Manoosh, who liked her smile. She was one of the few women who smiled at him and meant it.

"Why not?"

"The Intersect doesn't run on raw data, any more than a race car can run on the sludge they pump out of the ground. All of this," he gestured with a hand at the screen, "Isn't a replacement for what you do, it's a distillation, a refinement. It's an apotheosis, for God's sake."

She laughed at the hyperbole. Mission accomplished.

"I certainly can't type that fast," said Hannah, who didn't have the typist skills encoded into the Intersect.

"I can't even _read_ that fast," said Manoosh.

Hannah could, if she caught something at the bottom of the screen and followed it up. One set of words popped up fairly often. "Why are there so many references to someone called 'Big Lou'?"

* * *

Russia again...

Frost stopped running. Sarah, taken unaware, stopped too, a few paces ahead. She turned and looked back.

Frost stood in the path, tears running down her cheeks. "Do you have any idea how lucky you are, Sarah?"

As Frost watched, the apparent placidity of Sarah's face gave way to the true turmoil underneath, a glimpse into a hell of equally violent extremes. Not the hell Frost was familiar with.

Sarah pounced, but Frost had had quite enough of being the younger woman's punching bag. She rolled with it, and flipped Sarah onto the dirt and leaves. Sarah swung a looping right hook. Frost ducked, slammed her fist into Sarah's gut, then shoved her into a tree. "You heard me. Lucky!"

Sarah threw a blind elbow, drilling Frost in the jaw. The black-haired blonde whipped around and followed it with a left hook that laid Frost among the forest debris herself.

Frost kicked out, and both women were down, rising to their feet in attack positions. "You never had to watch a friend…change, into something he wasn't," said Frost savagely. "Never had to take a hit order on someone you knew."

Sarah blinked, and stepped back.

_Interesting. _Frost filed that observation away with all the others, wiping a bit of blood off her lip. "Yes, I took the order. The easiest way to delay the hit is to be the hitter. Stephen was working on a way to remove the memories from Hartley's mind, and I trusted him to get it to me before I had to take that shot." Frost sagged. "Then Roarke came, forcing Stephen into hiding, and left me in Russia with no way to account for my actions."

Sarah walked over, limping slightly, and took her mother-in-law's hand. Not exactly a hand up, or out, but at least neither of them was alone.

Frost nodded, not quite up to a smile. "The CIA abandoned me, but not Stephen. We kept to our plan, but with Roarke constantly looking for him, I had to buy time. Hartley's trust in me made him the perfect tool to smash people the CIA could only dream of smashing. His empire is built on a mountain of bodies. Bad guy bodies, for the most part." It was the lesser part that woke her up at night. The ghosts of innocents, wondering why their sacrifice was still in vain.

Frost turned and walked away, the only thing she could do, and Sarah followed. "Then your team wiped out Fulcrum, and Stephen began to make real progress. Just in time, too, since you wiped out the Ring, giving Hartley an opportunity to expand that I'd been secretly denying him for years. Stephen broke cover to tell me about his new device, and I used Hartley's obsession with all things Bartowski to get him to LA. If Chuck hadn't gotten in my way I could have ended the threat of Volkoff right there." If she could have gotten past her son to use it, when the only way to get past her son _was_ to use it. She'd abused his trust at least one time too many.

Frost sighed out an ocean of frustrated dreams. "Just as well, I suppose. I was ready to give up on Hydra just to come home." Abandon her duty for family. Let the Intersect reconstruct the data. "Instead, I only put everyone I cared about in greater danger, and now, well…here you are. And here _she_ is."

* * *

"Just doing my bit for the public good, General," said Chuck.

"I'm sure the Oregon State Police appreciate your contributions, Mr. Bartowski. Now if we could return to the topic at hand…"

"Yes, ma'am, uh, okay, I have these coordinates for you." A string of digits came onto the screen. "They can map to a number of places depending on the order they're put in, but the one I'd start with is this one." A map popped up on the screen, with several bright points on it, but the only one that blinked was situated in England.

"That looks familiar," said Casey.

"That's because it is familiar," said Chuck. "The location is somewhere in Somerset. As soon as we can get a satellite overhead we can get a real-time look at the exact site. Once we have that information, we can plan our insertion–"

"Mr. Bartowski–" She was about to yell at him, he could tell. "The British are our allies."

"You'd trust them with this, General? I don't even trust _us_ with this. This is stuff hidden by my father, who is a world-class hider of stuff. He actually won the Olympic Hide-and-Seek event in 1964, but no one found him to tell him until '73."

Beckman almost smiled at that. "I get your point, Chuck, and I agree this information is best kept closely held. That is why the initial investigations of this data will be carried out by Manoosh and Hannah."

Six minds thought it, but only one had the temerity to actually say it. "General?"

"Government regulations force me to keep Chuck benched until his mandatory therapy is completed."

"Oh." The whole group sagged. Neither Casey nor Carina even mentioned doing the mission without him.

"However, his primary therapist, Dr. Dreyfus, believes that Chuck will benefit from a more active form of therapy. We believe it would be best to return you to your interrupted training in–well, not in Prague."

"Why not Prague, General?" He liked Prague.

"Because your next module is in the Inducement and Infiltration of Enemy Personnel, and your instructor believes in teaching by example. You and your team will meet Roan Montgomery in Marrakesh."

"My team?" said Chuck. "I don't understand."

Beckman took pity on him. "In training missions of this sort there is always the possibility that things will go sideways, in fact, with Roan involved I'd plan on it, but you cannot become involved, Mr. Bartowski. Your team is there to make sure you don't have to be. I'm sure I can count on their support and cooperation."

Both Casey and Carina gave firm, if smiling, nods.

"In other words," said the General, "Stay in the car, Chuck."

* * *

Alexei waited at the door as Sarah and Frost staggered into the compound, long since alerted by guards trained to Frost's exacting standards of their slow progress. Sarah was limping along, an arm thrown over Frost's shoulders. Frost had a word with a servant, who hurried off.

Volkoff looked them over. "Don't tell me you've already broken your new toy."

Frost scoffed. "Hardly. I give my sneakers a harder workout. Just a little quality girl time with my new BFF."

"I thought she was supposed to be your new sparring partner," said Vivian, walking up behind her father.

Volkoff chuckled. "To Frost they're practically the same thing."

Vivian sniffed. "Well," she said, pulling a leaf from Frost's hair, "This gives new meaning to 'fighting dirty'."

"I thought you were teaching her better than that," said Frost to Alexei.

"I knew I never should have let her be educated in the decadent West," said Volkoff in return. "Vivian, what have I told you about business?"

She rolled her eyes and recited dutifully, "That it's like war, Father."

"And what's the third best way to win a war, or succeed in business?"

"As messily and effectively as possible, so that your defeated enemy will never try to challenge you again."

Volkoff shook his head admiringly. "Those Romans, really have to hand it to them, they knew what they were about." He wiped at a smudge on Frost's cheek, but only made it smudgier. "Fighting is a dirty business, it's supposed to be, otherwise anyone will think they can play."

"Fine," said Vivian, tired of being lectured over every little thing. "Stables are abound back, have them hose her down thoroughly."

A servant, Vivian couldn't tell which, came up with a cane for Agent Walker. Frost released Sarah's arm and the taller woman stood easily. "This isn't England, Miss Volkoff." They had no stables there.

Alexei turned to his daughter as Sarah shuffled past them toward her room and its shower. "Do you miss your horse, Vivian? We could certainly have her brought out here, if you'd like."

The thought of Artemis gave Vivian a pang of regret. She'd loved to ride, but Father told her she just enjoyed the feeling of control, and he was right, as always. She thought of white ceilings and shuddered. "No, Father. What's past is past." She had to learn to control in this world now.

Volkoff beamed. "That's my girl! Jettison what will not serve." He offered her his arm. "Come." She took it gladly. "Let's go and seize the day, to secure the future. _Your_ future." As they left he tossed a jaunty "Carry on, Frost" over his shoulder.

Frost stood there watching them go, listening to the wind, like the sands of time running out. "Sir."

* * *

In a hotel bar in Marrakesh…

"You think it'll work any better because a General said it?" asked Casey.

Carina sipped from her champagne flute full of ginger ale. "Maybe if we had a car…?"

Casey grunted a negative. "Dream on." He checked the angled mirror that let him watch the bar, and the two men seated there. The younger one stared at his glass. The older one lifted his glass in a toast to someone that Casey would have to turn around to see.

"Looks like our mark," said Carina, watching through a different mirror and facing that direction.

"Wonderful." Casey listened to her description, his eyes searching among the various mirrors for a glimpse. Then he checked the first mirror again. "Where's Montgomery?"

"I think he went to the little spy's room," said Carina.

"I did, Agent Miller," said Roan in his smooth baritone from a position where neither of them could see him, "But if you'd lived through as many live-fire exercises as I have you'd have learned the secrets I've learned. They're very handy for buying an extra minute or two where no one expects you, especially at my age. Colonel, you need to have a word or two with your colleague."

Had to be Chuck, everybody else was over here. "What about?"

"It negates the purpose of the exercise when he keeps saying 'I wish Sarah was here' into his whiskey."

Well, at least he's not moaning about Gaez. "How many has he had?"

"Just one."

Casey smirked into his own glass of Diet Coke. "There's a guy who can't hold his liquor."

"That's not it, Casey," said Carina. "He's pulling a 'Lonely Guy' con."

"A what?"

"Look."

Casey checked the mirror. Chuck was surrounded by three women, flattering and flirting, now that he was alone. Chuck was smiling back, but they were having to work at it.

"So that's the 'Lonely Guy', eh?" said Roan. "I've never had occasion to use that."

"How could you?" muttered Carina to her ginger ale.

"Use the prop, Charles," said Roan.

As if on cue, Chuck stood up, pulling a perfectly-faked hundred-dollar bill from his pocket and dropping it on the bar. The ladies all cooed at his largesse, and he tossed back his drink with flair. Suddenly he sagged to the floor and two of the ladies grabbed him, holding him upright with surprising ease.

"I see what you mean about the booze," said Roan.

The third woman gestured peremptorily and her comrades followed her out, carrying Chuck between them.

"Great," snarled Casey, rising to follow. "Just when you get him to stay in the car they steal the damn car!"

* * *

**A/N2 **This chapter is a bit talkier than I would have liked. While I tried to explain most of what Frost did, it may not be as clear as some readers might want it to be. Some of the fight in the forest is lifted pretty much entirely from Liam2's wonderfully funny story Fight Night, with the names changed.

I have no idea why I did the Hannah/Manoosh scene, I have no plans for any relationship between them beyond what they already have.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N **I like to respond to all people who send me comments. To those with accounts I usually respond privately, but for the rest, I have to do so here.

RAB: I doubt the seduction I have in mind is the seduction you're thinking of, but then, I never do what anyone expects, not even me.

* * *

"_You want to do an upload."_

"_Do you have any idea how lucky you are?"_

"_Stay in the car, Chuck." _

"_He's pulling a 'Lonely Guy' con."_

* * *

In Marrakesh…

Casey, Carina, and Roan left their hastily-acquired CIA-issued vehicle behind, approaching Fatima Tazi's fortress on foot. While modeled on a fortress in the classic style, the low walls were more decorative than functional, with emphasis given to electronic surveillance over the human guards, who were there either for show or for punishment duty.

In other words, a piece of cake.

Removing a regulator chip from Roan's nose-hair trimmer, they used the resulting high-powered laser to slice through the metal bars of an grate covering an outflow tunnel, just a handy alternate entrance at this time of year. The courtyard at the far end was full of cars and the keep with their occupants, as Fatima entertained her dubious guests. Cameras came out as the team caught candid shots of every face, and sent them off for processing.

"Ideas for getting past?" asked Casey.

"I'm astonished at you, Colonel," said Roan. "You've taken my course twice and you still don't know the first rule of infiltration?" He swung a small pack off his back, unzipping it to reveal some formal clothing. "Always look as if you belong."

"What about Carina?"

"I don't think there's anything in that black bag for me," asked Carina. "Is there, Mr. Wizard?"

"Possibly, my dear, but you most definitely would not look as if you belonged." Roan scanned the grounds, watching the women. "There," he pointed at a small tent. "We can change in there. If you can pull off a passable belly-dance, you'll fit right in."

* * *

Somewhere inside Tazi's fortress, upstairs…

The bells gave them away, but that wasn't a bad thing. The guards in the hall looked at Carina immediately, but their attention was captured by the colors of her skin and her hair. By the time they realized their mistake, they were unable to realize their mistake.

Leaving Casey and Roan to drag the unconscious bodies into other places, Carina tried the door to the no-longer-guarded chamber. A massive four-poster bed dominated the room, solid wood and fitted with iron rings. Chuck lay on it, his entire being radiating an air of despondency that made her take a few steps toward him.

"I told you," he groaned, turning his head slowly at the sound, "I don't want a–" His eyes widened as he saw her and he threw off his despair like a cloak. "Carina! What are you guys doing here? What are you wearing?" _And how can I get Sarah to wear one?_

"You like?" asked Carina, shifting her hips slightly. The bells were meant for someone hippier than her.

Chuck dragged his gaze upwards. "Uhh, yeah, um, what are you guys doing here? Shouldn't you be foiling that scary woman's nefarious plot?"

"Shouldn't you be in the car, Chuck?" said Casey as he came in the room. "And you," he said to Carina, "Grab a blanket. You're not supposed to be a magnet for _our_ guys." He stomped on by, checking under the bed for enemy agents.

Roan followed and shut the door. "Our apologies for the tardy rescue, Charles, but we had to acquire a car for you to stay in first."

"I'd settle for a camel," said Chuck.

"Never settle, Charles," said Roan, shooting his cuffs. "It lacks dignity. What's the situation with Miss Tazi?"

"You mean the one that you were just yelling at me for being in, after you walked away?"

Roan accepted the rebuke like a gentleman. "Yes, Mr. Bartowski, that situation. We can't deal with her nefarious plot until we know what it is."

"I have no idea."

Casey poked a tapestry aside with the barrel of his gun, in case someone very thin was behind it. "She hasn't said anything to you?"

Chuck shrugged. "She called me a good sport."

"That doesn't sound like something a mercenary leader famous for her all-woman army would say," said Roan.

Carina twitched her hips and Chuck jumped at the jingle-jangle sound. She smiled. "_A_ good sport, or just 'good sport'?"

Chuck pulled at his collar. "I…could have misheard…She said that, once she took care of her guests downstairs, she'd come back and–" he smiled feebly "Take care of me."

"Now that does sound like something a man-hating femizon would say," said Roan.

"'Take care of her guests'?" said Casey. "What does that mean?"

"I wouldn't know, I never saw any of them."

Carina pulled out her phone and checked her mail. "Good old Bed–I mean, Focus." Suddenly Carina looked confused. She looked at the all-powerful bestower of code-names. "Is it Bedrock or Focus?"

"Purely analytical capacity, definitely Focus."

Ah. "She identified one of the guests, a bad, bad Saudi oil billionaire."

Casey made a satisfied grunt. The likelihood of shooting something just went up.

"Why would one of them be here?" asked Roan. "The fortune of a man like that depends on a strong dollar, and I can't think of anything else those two might have in common. What use would they have for a super-note?"

"Maybe to undermine someone else's economy?" suggested Chuck.

"She's coming," said Carina suddenly, looking at an overhead monitor. "You can just ask her yourself."

"Not us, Princess Jasmine," said Casey, dropping to the floor. "Chuck's the only one who's supposed to be here." He slid under the bed, the only space large enough for him.

Carina slid behind an arras against the far wall, and Roan hastened to join her. "Do me proud, Charles."

Chuck didn't think twice about Roan, proud or otherwise. He had to get into character, so he thought about Sarah. Absent, distant Sarah. The last time he'd seen her, she killed a lot of people. The time before that, she killed a lot of people.

He sagged. _This can't go on._

Fatima Tazi chose that moment to strut into the room. "And where do you think _you_ are going?"

Chuck appeared to brighten. "Nowhere?"

"Correct, dumpling," she said."It will please me to hear you beg for an end to your miserable life, and it will please me to give it." She pushed Chuck back onto the bed. "But for right now, I need to be able to keep a smile on my face while dealing with those insufferable pigs downstairs." She climbed onto the bed, straddling him.

Somehow it was less sexy when she did it. "If you hate them so much, why do you bother?"

She smirked down on him. "Money, why else? One trillion dollars in counterfeit US currency will not print itself."

"One trillion–?"

"You must think me an awful fool," said Fatima, pulling her pistol. She put a bullet through the tapestry. Something metallic and bell-like fell shimmering to the floor behind it.

As if that was a signal (the shot, not the bells), a squad of armed soldiers burst in the door. The arras came down, with Roan and Carina empty-handed, and empty-hipped in Carina's case, behind it.

"Roan Montgomery," said Fatima. "Your reputation precedes you. Are you sending boys to do your work, now? Surely he is not an apprentice."

"A decoy, only," said Roan. "Meant to enhance by the contrast."

Fatima put a bullet hole in his pant leg. "Your next word will be your last." She pulled Chuck up off the bed. "Did you think I wouldn't notice the absence of my own guards?"

Since she appeared to be talking to him, Chuck stammered out, "I didn't know you had guards…"

"Be silent, fool," snapped Tazi. A dangerous gleam came into her eye. "Or be useful. Tell me, little man, do you think it any safer beneath my bed than in it?"

Under the bed, Casey's lip curled. "Coming out!" he shouted, pushing his weapon out first.

Once Casey was stripped of his armory, the guards marched the prisoners out of the room. "Not him," said Fatima, pointing at Chuck. "I promised to let him beg for death. Put them in the dungeon, we'll execute them after my little party is over. It wouldn't do for my guests to get cold feet now."

* * *

Upstairs in the bedroom...

Chuck sat on the bed, listening to the sound of revelry from below. Eventually it would end, and they would all die. He felt under the bed, and found spikes, but they were welded into a frame.

He scanned the room, looking for anything he could use as a weapon. Surely if anyone had lethal thingies in their bedroom it would be that woman.

This bedroom, unlike the rest of the fortress, was Fatima's personal space, kept in a style that meant something to her. A poor and ragged style, mostly. The fallen arras reeked of dust, making his eyes water and nose sting. He spotted a little black bag by the door, completely out of keeping with the décor. That smooth sophisticated case didn't belong here.

He unzipped it, and found it to be full of…men's toiletries? It had to be Roan's. Great. If he lit Roan's hairspray on fire maybe he could burn the door down. Cologne, antiperspirant, shaving gel, breath freshener…Breath freshener?

He knew that brand. Mint-flavored unconsciousness. With the guards on the other side of a thick door.

* * *

Down in the dungeon...

Casey looked down at his balls, one chained to each of his ankles. They would have put one on Carina but her dainty feminine feet would have slipped right out of the ring. Or maybe it was just a girl thing. "We're doomed."

"That's your professional assessment, is it, Colonel?" asked Roan, strapped semi-upright to a frame against the wall.

"Just calling it like I see it, Montgomery."

"It's kind of hard to see this ending well," said Carina, rattling the chains on her slender, delicate wrists as she sat behind Casey. Not something the FRODO would work on. "I see skinning alive in our future."

"Target practice," said Casey.

"Or the Death of a Thousand Cuts," said Roan. "Let this be a lesson to you both. The female is always more deadly, more cruelly vicious, than the male."

"Not cheering me up here, Montgomery."

"We could get lucky," Carina sighed. "_Fatima_ could get us first."

"Not gonna happen," said Casey. "Chuck's probably at the head of those stairs right now. Before you know it we'll be back on a plane to the States, trying to figure out how to explain this to the General."

* * *

Upstairs...

Chuck eased open the door at the top of the stairs, checking for movement. Just one shadow. A big shadow. With Roan's portable shaving mirror he looked around the corner. A big shadow for a big woman. All he had were weapons he'd rather not use, and Roan's bag. How could he get past _her_ without a fight?

* * *

Downstairs...

"This _is_ precisely the sort of situation you two were sent to keep him out of."

"Not cheering me up here, Montgomery."

Roan might have shrugged but with his arms pulled up like that they couldn't tell. "He's not in it, is he?"

_Heh_. "Knowing Chuck, he's probably got three alternate escape routes mapped out."

* * *

Outside...

Something, lots of somethings, fell to the steps and down the steps with a great metallic clatter. Someone whimpered in pathetic terror, "No!"

* * *

Inside...

"What the hell is that?" said Casey.

"From the sound of it," drawled Roan, pulling his bonds with renewed vigor, "I'm guessing this is daring escape plan number four."

* * *

Outside...

The guard brought her gun around, just as a scrawny fellow bumbled down the steps, all bent over. Even as he reached for whatever it was he reached for on the step, his foot slid forward and kicked it down to the floor. A tube of toothpaste?

"Please don't be broken," muttered Chuck with a slight accent as he scooped up the mirror, "Please don't be broken." He scanned the room in the glass and clutched it to his chest. "Oh thank God." He stuffed it into the formerly-empty bag.

"Stop!" commanded the guard.

"Ah!" shouted Chuck, stumbling backward.

"What do you do here?"

"Mr. Roan's things!" Chuck snatched up the abused toothpaste tube and stuffed it in the bag. "I must take care of Mr. Roan's things!" He sank to his knees on the steps. "Oh, you don't know what it is, to be a lackey."

The guard glanced around the room, empty and cold.

Chuck pulled his coat tighter. "Gosh, it's cold." He looked at the guard with open admiration. "You don't feel it, do you? I wish I could be like you, strong and all that." He reached for the shaving cream.

"Stop," said the guard again.

"Please," Chuck fairly whined, gesturing at the scattered items, "They're Mr. Roan's things. I have to keep them in order." He tucked his hands under his arms, making himself appear smaller, as if to say, _This is my life._ "We can't all be tall, strong, and beautiful, can we?""

"I am not beauty!" Even her voice was not beauty.

"I love my mother very much," said Chuck peevishly, "And I think you are just as pretty as she ever was." He ducked his head. "Maybe a bit more, really…"

"You think I am pretty, English pansy?"

"That's 'dandy', and why wouldn't I? Any orchid can bloom in a hothouse." He waved a hand indifferently, and then clenched it into a fist, "But it takes stronger flower to stand up to winter's chill, if you ask me."

"Who are you, Englishman?"

Chuck stood, smoothing his rumpled clothing. He stepped forward, held out a hand partway and said, "Charles Charles, at your service."

Her lip curled.

"I know," said Chuck, dropping the hand. "I blame my father's peculiar sense of humor. He married a woman named Charlotte. We all called her Chuck, out of pity, I think." Then he jumped. "But _I _didn't call her Chuck, I called her mum."

She snorted her derision. "Come here, Englishman."

Chuck approached, cringing to disguise his height, arms drawn in to conceal their length. "Yes, ma'am."

"You think I am beauty, eh?"

"I do," said Chuck, with a firm nod. "Not as beautiful as you could be, of course, but–"

"What do you mean?" said the guard. "How can I be more pretty? Tell me, now!"

"My mother always wore her hair up, you know," said Chuck, as if she would. "It was the fashion of the day, but it also served to emphasize her magnificent jaw, quite the marvel. I'm sure it would have the same effect on you. Truly stunning."

"My hair up?" She grabbed her short, dark locks and pulled. "Like this?"

"No, no, no," said Chuck in horror, his hands fluttering. He reached up around her neck, suddenly much taller. "Like this."

His thumbs jammed in on either side of her neck, and he knelt with her smoothly, keeping up the pressure as she sagged to the ground. He took her weapons but he wasn't about to try moving her. He stepped over her and tapped on the door. "Guys?"

* * *

Inside...

Casey could live without Roan's happy grin. "Get us out of here, Bartowski!"

"Let me search this Russian bear for the keys."

Roan raised his voice. "Don't bother, Charles, you little A-plus dumpling. You have my bag?"

"Of course."

"Get the shaving cream and spray it on the lock."

"Okay," said Chuck, confused but willing. They heard a sound, presumably that of shaving cream sprayed on a lock, not something any of them could claim to have heard before.

"Now spritz it with my cologne."

"Holy cow," said Chuck. "You shave with this stuff?" He pushed the cell door open, most of the lock eaten away, and part of the wall.

"Clearly not. The toothpaste is thermite. Spread some on the cuffs, and use the nose-hair burner in my pocket to ignite it."

Chuck shook his head in wonder as he rummaged around for the materials. "You really come prepared, Roan."

"It's not the tools, it's the man, Charles. How did you escape the bedroom, if I may ask?"

"Fatima had one of those old-fashioned atomizers," said Chuck casually as he spread goo carefully on the locks. "I dumped your knockout-drop breath spray into it and pumped it under the door." Chuck held up a plastic wand. "What's this?"

Roan gave him a funny look. "That's a toothbrush, Charles."

* * *

Chuck made his way to the car, reversing the route his team had used to get in. The rescue could be written off, and would be, as a rather extreme form of a field exercise, but none of what was coming up had anything to do with infiltration or inducement. Besides, he had critical information for Beckman, and the car had the strongest transmitter.

"Excellent work, Agent Charles," said Beckman when he made his report. "The location of her printing facility is of utmost importance. Report any leads immediately. I'll have a drone standing by."

Chuck passed on the order and listened in on the little tactical radios that were all the gear they had left, plus the guard's weapons. Roan, like Chuck, thought there was more to Fatima's quarters than met the eye, and returned there, while Casey and Carina decided to crash the party.

A long steady stream of gunfire shattered the night. Chuck heard it even with his windows rolled up. He triggered his mike. "Casey, what did you just do?"

"Zip it, Charles. I'm not the only trigger-happy goon in this hellhole. Fatima just blew all of her idiot buyers away."

"Why would she do that?"

"That's your department, Graboid. I just kill people."

_To each his own_. "Whatever she's after, power and wealth have nothing to do with it," said Chuck. "Roan, I smell something personal about all this. Find out what that is for me, please."

"My pleasure, Agent Charles."

* * *

"_Good evening, Miss Tazi. A pleasure to see you again. Some wine?"_

Chuck listened to a master at work. The transmitter to Roan's radio didn't catch much of what Fatima said, but Roan, appearing sympathetic, or perhaps hard-of-hearing, repeated the important bits in a kindly tone. A tiny strip-mined village? How sad. Hopefully they had that detail on file somewhere. As he was typing out this information for Beckman, he heard two simultaneous exclamations, "Drop your weapons!" along with "You bastard!" His team had been caught again.

He reached for the door latch…and stopped. This was his team. He should be feeling sorry for the bad guys.

Plus Casey and Carina had explicit orders to keep him out trouble. He couldn't put them in it.

In back of it all, Sarah. He had to get Dreyfus' blessing to get back in the field, back to her.

Not that that meant he couldn't help, he just had to be smarter about it than he used to be. What could he do? He didn't even have the resources of his Intersect room available, just this stupid–

CIA-issued?

He checked the glove compartment.

"Okay, guys, two things," he said, pressing a button. "Casey, I'm staying in the car. And Roan, duck." He pressed the red button, and the missile flew across the intervening distance in seconds, exploding against the outer wall of the tower.

He followed, the rocket moving much faster than he could, listening as his friends made their own freedom with the help of his little distraction. Without a planned rendezvous point he aimed for the place he'd come out, and hoped for the best.

Casey came out, supporting Roan, with Carina covering them. The two men piled in the back and Carina took shotgun seat. She kept the shotgun out of sight, though.

"What happened to Tazi?" asked Chuck, not waiting for a reply to pull out and put some distance behind them. Hopefully they weren't just going to let her get away.

Roan and Casey shared a look, and Casey shook his head slightly.

Roan said, "We're intelligence agents, Charles, not law enforcement. Leave Miss Tazi to the Marrakeshi police. After tonight's debacle even they might do something."

That got the expected Casey grunt.

The car's phone rang, and Carina answered it. She nodded and said "Yes, ma'am" a lot, then hung up. "Well, Chuckles, looks like this is goodbye again. You and Casey are going back to Prague."

Casey couldn't believe that. "She's leaving you two alone together in Marrakesh?"

"My General has nothing to fear," said Roan. "It's not the place, it's the woman, and despite Agent Miller's many and obvious charms, especially in that costume, she is not the woman. Isn't that right, Charles?"

"Absolutely," Chuck lied, his hands white on the steering wheel. Sometimes it _was_ the place. Sarah's proper place was with him, and she wasn't in it. _This can't go on._

Chuck flashed. On nothing. On this road and at that speed, no one noticed, but his hands relaxed on the wheel. _This _won't_ go on._

* * *

**A/N2 **Did I mention up above how much I like to respond to comments? I'm not the sort to beg but I'm not above a little bribery.


End file.
